


growing pains

by conclusio



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Explicit Sexual Content, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Slow Burn, The green/leaf is basically for the plot lmaoo, They're rough, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, Unresolved (?) sexual tension, a story about growing up, follows canon storyline, friendship to rivalry to love, from kanto to alola, leaf is still a saint tho bless her, red and green are difficult, selective mutism, unhealthy in the beginning but it will be fine promise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-12-04 06:07:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11549079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/conclusio/pseuds/conclusio
Summary: No matter how hard they try to sever the ties, Green and Red are stuck together.





	growing pains

**Author's Note:**

> Basic info:  
> Trainers start out at sixteen years of age here. I wasn't comfortable writing them as ten year olds, haha... They're young enough as it is. /cough  
> Green/Leaf is mostly one-sided, also Leaf/Red friendship. You'll see.
> 
> (Beware of bad formatting, I'll work on it.)

The first time it happened, they met on deck of the S.S. Anne in Vermillion City.

Red was very sure that it had been the worst decision of his life, but in retrospect, he didn’t have any better suggestions for his own behavior either. He couldn’t put the pieces together in a way he liked, so he gave up trying.  
Green had been drunk – swaying not only to the rhythm of the sea – and angry. The party was over, their battle was over, and the people around them returned to their cabins as if nothing ever happened. Red was glad he missed the party and the worst of the crowd. Barging into every cabin of the ship on his search for the captain had left him with enough social interaction for months to come, like a stone in his stomach. He wanted to leave. 

Green seemed to have other ideas though. Red couldn’t remember exactly how it happened – too many people, too loud, too many touches and rustling and tugging and pulling – but they ended up in Green’s cabin.   
It started as more or less a fistfight, and the nature of it stayed, but there was a difference between biting kisses and punches, no matter how small.

It hurt – Green wasn’t ever gentle, and Red wasn’t surprised. His lips were bleeding, his tongue hurt, and there was a bruise forming right in the left corner of his mouth. Blood mixed with saliva, but it was okay. The attention of his childhood friend had always been a bit painful, but Red didn’t complain as long as Green was focused on him solely, so it was fine.

He probably should have pushed Green away, should have turned on his heel when he first spotted him on deck, but he didn’t. He never could, and that was the problem.

It was a wild mix of kissing (biting), scratching and losing clothes along the way. Green bit and sucked wherever he pleased, until Red’s neck was littered with red and purple spots that slowly faded out into bitemarks on his chest and a few on his stomach, even. Red didn’t know when blood appeared beneath his fingernails, or when the blood in his mouth mixed with Greens, but when he had the time to register those little things, the other teen made sure to relocate his attention to more urgent matters.

A very rational and detached part of Red would later see this as an act of the irrational and way too hormonal side of being a teenager. No matter how quiet or withdrawn Red was, he was a growing boy, or so others said. It wasn’t unusual to explore your own body, or the body of others, and to seek relief from the frustration he felt. 

Later, when Green had jerked them both off – roughly, frantically, painfully – Red couldn’t say that he felt any relief at all. The green eyed boy breathed heavily into his neck for a few more minutes, muttering to himself (he caught his name and several swear words) and Red let him. It probably would have been best if he had left as fast as possible, but to his own annoyance, he allowed himself to linger. Green smelled like a spicy drug store parfume, and it strangely fit him. It was also very fitting for him to jerk away seconds later and leaving the bed.

He watched Green put on his clothes and leave the room without feeling anything.

Later, when the captain oft he S.S. Anne forced Red to have a cup of green tea with him right after curing him of his sea-sickness, the hot water stung on his bitten tongue.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
Red’s tenth birthday had been bleak, even in his own opinion.

His mother had presented him with a neatly made chocolate cake, ten candles on top and littered with colorful sugar decorations, like little yellow pikachu heads and pokéballs. Red liked the cake, he really did. He knew that his mother had to do such things after work, late at night, and that she must have been tired. 

One slice of the cake had already been put on a nice small plate, along with a fork and a small note that simply read "Happy birthday" in his mothers neat, plain handwriting. She, of course, had left for work early in the morning. Red felt guilty for keeping her up last night.

The house was absolutely silent except for the sound of Red's fork meeting the plate every time he took a small bite of cake. On Saturday mornings, Pallet was very quiet. There were not a lot of cars, and most children would come out to play later in the day, and not even their neighbors had started tending to their garden yet.

In Red's house, there was no radio. He had a very old and small TV with a SNES in his room, but he hadn't played in a while. All the clocks had digital screens, so not even the smallest tick or tock made it's way through the house. He was alone, and he himself made very little noise, so it was quiet.

Last year, Green had pulled him out of bed for his ninth birthday, congratulating him and shoving a badly wrapped gift in his face. The Pikachu plush was nice, and it pulled a small smile out of Red. Green continued on to bask in his superb gift-picking-skills for at least an hour, telling Red how good of a friend he was, how lucky Red was that Green was gracious enough to bestow him with it. 

Red had seen that Pikachu plush a lot of times, whenever he and the brown haired boy chose to stay in Green's room for a bit. If he would have been anyone else, he might have been miffed at the prospect of getting a hand-me-down from Green, but Red didn't care. Green had taken at least a few seconds to think about a present for him, he had chosen it, and Red was happy.

They continued on with their day in similiar ways to every other day, like fishing and climbing some trees, or shoving each other into the mud, but Red didn't need any further birthday ceremonies.   
Today, however, Green didn't wake him by pulling him out of bed, letting him fall on the ground. He didn't shove any gifts in his face, he didn't praise himself, he didn't grin widely. Green didn't show his face at all.

It wasn't like Red expected him to. 

Green had other friends now, so he didn't need Red anymore. It had been a slow but steady process, how the other boy drifted away further and further, where Red couldn't follow. He wasn't sociable like Green was. He had a rigid stare, he didn't talk, he didn't collect any pokémon cards or chased the girls all over the school yard in the breaks. He wasn't like his peers at all, and they didn't like him. 

And Green, while the life at a party and loving the attention of others, and being really good with convincing others of his supposed coolness, had been a target of that obvious distrust as well. As long as he was stuck with Red, he was just as weird.

Maybe Green had felt a certain kind of loyalty towards Red, a long time ago. Whenever Red was being bullied (again), his friend had stepped in, telling them off.  
"We don't need them!", he'd say, with a sour expression on his face, "They're dumb anyway. Let's go look at the tauros gramps keeps in his lab, they're at least interesting."

It had been nice, having a friend. Having Green choose him over the others. Being told that he was worth at least something in his eyes. But at the same time, it had put Red under a different kind of pressure. Green was smart, very smart. Red expected him to discover that he was absolutely not worth any protection, or the fist-fights the brown haired boy got into, or the screaming and the shoving, at any given moment.

Red loved having Green as a friend, but he knew it couldn't last. He was a heavy burden to carry, and he knew it bothered Green to not be able to play with the other boys in their class. To always be associated with Red wherever he went. He felt guilty, and anxious. 

Maybe, if Red had managed to change his attitude a bit, it wouldn't have to be this way. Maybe, if he could smile more naturally, stop staring creepily, start talking to others easily…. But he couldn't. His smiles looked forced, his eyes remained the same rigid red and the words didn't come. He had failed.

So, not long ago, Green had stopped his visits. He stopped talking to Red, he stopped looking at him. It had hurt, of course, but that would have been bearable. Being ignored is only a passive sting, like sleeping in the wrong position and waking up with aching muscles. Red could have dealt with that.

With the bullying though, it was harder.

And when Red finally managed to confront Green about it, when he finally made his way to his house, when he finally managed to stutter "Are we not friends anymore?" in the steadiest (not steady at all) voice he could muster, Green had simply said "No.".  
He should have kicked Greens ass, right then and there. Should have shoved him, told him how stupid he was. Red should have told him that, after listening to Green's self-praise for hours and hours, after playing pranks even though he didn't want to, after being there when his friend felt lonely and cried and cried and cried, he had no right to just drop him like that. That he owed him an explaination, at least. 

But, because he actually owed Green for being his friend after all, and he owed him to let him go, and leave, like Red had known and feared all along, he just muttered the quietest "okay" and left.

His mother had not been home, and it was a blessing. Because that meant she couldn't hear him, and he was allowed to cry in his room if he wanted to. His mother seemed to sway between not being able to care as much as she wanted for him and not wanting to confront herself with that truth, and it was easiest on her when Red was quiet and neither too happy nor too sad, so crying and excessive laughing wasn't allowed. But she wasn't here, and Red cried into the Pikachu plush's yellow fur until evening.

Suddenly, the cake in his mouth tasted like nothing, and Red shook his head angrily. This cake was one of the rare things that told him that his mother cared at least a bit, and he wouldn't let Green ruin that for him.   
He wouldn't cry anymore. Everything was as it needed to be, and Red had grown to accept that.   
He tugged the disappointment into the furthest corner of his heart and finished his cake.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Surge, as it turned out, was tough. Pikachu was faster than Raichu, but between the two, Raichu just hit harder. One punch in the gut was enough to send the smaller electric mouse flying, crashing harshly into the battlefield. It was maybe sheer luck when they managed to avoid most attacks to chip at Raichu's energy attack after attack, but after what felt like eternity, it was done.

Red hurried onto the field to pick up Pikachu only seconds after their win. He hadn't fainted, but he was wounded and weak. Scratches and bruises littered the small body underneath the yellow fur, but Pikachu was tough. He settled on nuzzling into the crook of Red's arm with only a few pained squeaks.

Besides being tough, it also turned out Surge was kind. Red had to hold himself back from flinching away when the gym leader approached him with steady and heavy steps, before a bright grin lit up his face. Red nearly dropped Pikachu when the huge man patted him on the back with way too much force.

"Good battle kid! I didn't see it coming from a twerp like you, but you sure showed us." Red blinked owlishly at the thunder badge that was shoved into his face. "Take it, you really earned it!"  
Red took the badge, pinning it on the inside of his jacket, next to the other two he had earned in Pewter and Cerulean. Surge's arm landed on his shoulder heavily.   
"You look like you've stumbled through the wilderness right into this gym on your last legs, but shouldn't judge a book by it's cover. Learned that in the war too, good to be reminded", the blonde gym leader bellowed, followed by a loud lough that rang uncomfortably in Red's ears. 

Well, he couldn't deny his hurry, or his appearance. Red had left the S.S. Anne right after visiting the captain and teaching Bulbasaur the cut technique, heading for the Vermillion City Pokémon Center straight away. The nurse had taken his pokémon after giving him a quiet, lingering look, but hadn't said anything. She had given him the keys to a room for the night, too, after giving him the standart speach about the house rules, including the limitation of his stay to three nights.   
The rooms in the Centers were small and plain, with a small bed and a bathroom for him to use. When he looked into the mirror after washing his face with cold water over the sink, he could see why the nurse had looked at him the way she did – he looked, well, a little under the weather.

In the corner of his mouth bloomed a dark bruise, sitting neatly next to his bitten lips. When he observed his tongue, it was swollen, and it hurt. His neck was the worst, though – not only did it hurt to touch it, but littered with bruises. (He refused to call them hickeys. Hickeys were for lovers.)

Green seemed to be an expert at making his life harder than necessary, Red mused, and decided to close his jacket up to the neck. It didn't hide everything, and it looked weird considering the warm temperatures outside, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered. It hadn't mattered to Green, at the very least, so he wanted to ban the incident from his mind along with his rival.

He didn't understand, and maybe he didn't want to. Green was a sensitive topic anyway. Red preferred to drown complicated feelings with numbness, shoving them away to maybe work around them later. Later, like everything else. When he was a child, he imagined swallowing them down into his stomach and dissolving them with acid.

Surge pulled him back into the present with another harsh pat on the back. 

"Listen, you take this TM too. It's Thunderbolt. It'll be really handy for your Pikachu there.", he said, handing Red the small floppy disk. "Your Pikachu's Thundershock is good, but it lacks some spark. You could evolve it with a thunderstone, too, to turn it up some volt…"  
He must have noticed Red's facial expression, for Surge laughed again, shaking his head. "… But it seems you need some time thinking that over. Evolution is like growing up, you can't turn back afterwards. They sell thunderstones in Celadon, but it'll be a while before you reach it, so you got plenty of thinking time, buddy."

Afterwards, Surge treated Bulbasaur and Pikachu with the healing items provided by the gym. It's not as good as nurse Joy's healing hands, but it's enough. The bruises and burns fade away beneath healing sprays and the scent of antiseptics.   
He picked up Pikachu, pressing him into his chest. Red couldn't help but think of thunderstones and growing up while putting his fingers into Pikachu's soft fur, over the brown stripes on his back. Would he be as soft? As kind? As understanding as he is now, even after being forced to change? Red couldn't find the answer to that, so he settled on putting these thoughts aside for now.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Young trainers obtain their trainer licence at the age of sixteen in Kanto. It's one of many choices to be made about the future. It's not exactly the most popular job choice, since Pokémon training is a hard job and in most cases doesn't pay very well, but it's a choice anyway.

Most of Red's peers chose college or office jobs – a lot of them had made their minds up very early and applied to different colleges around Kanto. Viridian University is a very popular choice, but Celadon follows close behind.  
For Red, college had never been an option. He wasn't stupid – he definately was very good at maths, and physics, and chemistry and also biology – but he had difficulties with languages and participating in class at all. Red had decided to leave school the moment he had learned of the option to do so. 

Ironically, up to that point in his life, Red had never had a particular interest in Pokémon.

Sure, they were interesting creatures, and everybody seemed to have their favorite. Pokémon were everywhere, like at police stations, in schools, as service pokémon for people with disabilites, as friends. As companions for Trainers wanting to join the Indigo League.

Still, Red had, at best, shown only a mild interest in them. Green loved them, and he had dragged Red more than once into his Grandfathers lab to look at the creatures living in the spacious facility. Red had liked spending time with Green though, and the other boy had always seemed so excited and happy between countless Pidgeys and Bulbasaurs, so he had quite fond memories of these visits. (Fond, but quite bitter, too.)

Maybe it had been the fact that Red was utterly lost and directionless, or the stupid and persistent wish to maybe, someday, mend things with Green, to be close… But the second he left school, on that last day, he chose to fill out a registration form for Pokémon Trainers. 

Looking back, Red wasn't sure if he regretted it or not.


End file.
